Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Preview

Copyright

“You Have A Very Suspicious Nature,” Duke Drawled Lazily.

“You bet I do,” Lola snapped.

“My feelings for you are going deeper by the minute,” he said, flashing her a smile that she saw as smug.

Lola’s anger increased tenfold. “Your only feelings for me are below your belt, so don’t try to con me, Duke.”

“You’re angry.”

“I’m not only angry, I don’t like you. There’s the answer to your question. Are you happy now?”

He chuckled. “I don’t think you’re a liar, Lola Fanon, so what you’re trying to do is con both of us. When a woman kisses back the way you did, she doesn’t dislike the man who’s holding her.”

Damn his sorry soul, he was right.

Made in Montana: The Fanons—born and raised in Big Sky country…and heading for a Montana Wedding!

Dear Reader,

Cowboys and cops…sexy men with a swagger…just the kind of guys to make your head turn. That’s what we’ve got for you this month in Silhouette Desire.

The romance begins when Taggart Jones meets his match in Anne McAllister’s wonderful MAN OF THE MONTH, The Cowboy and the Kid. This is the latest in her captivating CODE OF THE WEST miniseries. And the fun continues with Mitch Harper in A Gift for Baby, the next book in Raye Morgan’s THE BABY SHOWER series.

Cindy Gerard has created a dynamic hero in the very masculine form of J. D. Hazzard in The Bride Wore Blue, book #1 in the NORTHERN LIGHTS BRIDES series. And if rugged rascals are your favorite, don’t miss Jake Spencer in Dixie Browning’s The Baby Notion, which is book #1 of DADDY KNOWS LAST, Silhouette’s new cross-line continuity. (Next month, look for Helen R. Myers’s Baby in a Basket as DADDY KNOWS LAST continues in Silhouette Romance!)

Gavin Cantrell is sure to weaken your knees in Gavin’s Child by Caroline Cross, part of the delightful BACHELORS AND BABIES promotion. And Jackie Merritt—along with hero Duke Sheridan—kicks off her MADE IN MONTANA series with Montana Fever.

Heroes to fall in love with—and love scenes that will make your toes curl. That’s what Silhouette Desire is all about. Until next month—enjoy!

All the best,

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to: Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Montana Fever
Jackie Merritt

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JACKIE MERRITT

and her husband live just outside of Las Vegas, Nevada. An accountant for many years, Jackie has happily traded numbers for words. Next to family, books are her greatest joy. She started writing in 1987 and her efforts paid off in 1988 with the publication of her first novel. When she’s not writing or enjoying a good book, Jackie dabbles in watercolor painting and likes playing the piano in her spare time.

Prologue

A modest blue sedan drove slowly into the town of Rocky Ford, Montana. Though it was twilight, the woman behind the wheel tried to see everything she passed. Her heart was pounding and had seemingly changed positions in her chest, feeling as though it had risen to the base of her throat.

Her mind and body seemed heavy with unnerving questions. Had she done the right thing by coming here? Maybe she should have written first. Or called.

But no, she thought then. Her goal could not have been accomplished through the mail or by telephone. She had been compelled to come to this place since the moment she had learned the truth, and she must see it through.

Turning her thoughts, she began looking for a motel, something quiet yet busy enough that her presence would pass unnoticed. How long she would be renting a room was an unknown at this point. She might have to change addresses several times to remain anonymous in a town of less than eight thousand residents if things didn’t happen fast. Fortunately, she noted with some relief while traversing the main street, Rocky Ford was not lacking in motels.

Spotting a pleasant-looking redbrick establishment with exceptionally clean grounds and a sign advertising a connecting café, she turned into the parking area and stopped near the office.

Drawing a deep breath to calm her speeding pulse, she got out of her car and walked into the office.

One

Giving her hair a pat, Lola Fanon smiled at herself in the mirror over the sink in the small bathroom of her store. She really liked her new style. Her almost black hair had always been long, at least shoulder-length, and this short but sophisticated cut was a major change.

But she relished change, she thought with another smile. Her reflection seemed to agree. Her green eyes shone with a dancing excitement, precisely the way she felt inside. The store had been open for only three months and was already proving to be a smart decision. And the Lord knew that Lola Fanon, world traveler, settling down—back in her hometown yet—and opening a men’s clothing store, was definitely a change.

In her mind this innovation was permanent, though. She had finally seen enough of the world and had gotten very lonesome for home. Lonesome for Rocky Ford, Montana, and for her family. It was great to be back, great to be living under her Uncle Charlie’s roof again, and it was especially gratifying to be the owner of a business.

Humming under her breath, Lola took her purse and left the little bathroom. Betty Drake, one of her part-time employees, was at the counter ringing up a sale. Lola darted into her office at the back of the store, deposited her purse in a desk drawer, then returned to the main part of the store to walk among the merchandise, her eye attuned to anything out of order. Betty was chatting with her customer—she knew almost everyone who came in—and Lola began straightening the stacks of jeans on the twenty-percent markdown table which the customer had obviously gone through quite thoroughly.

The man left with his packages. The two women smiled at each other as Betty came around the counter. “Good sale. He bought three pairs of jeans and two shirts.”

“Great,” Lola said. Betty was a wife and mother, and her hours were from an eight o’clock opening until 1:30 p.m. Monday through Friday, as she wanted to be free when her three children got home from school. Lola’s help in the afternoons and on Saturdays—the store was closed Sundays—consisted of high school kids, who were proving to be very good help. Lola got along with all of her part-time employees, but she especially enjoyed Betty, who was only a few years older than herself and had a wry sense of humor that sometimes had Lola in stitches.

A woman came in and Betty walked off to greet her. Lola was finishing with the jeans just as the bell above the door jangled again, announcing another customer. She turned from the table with a smile and felt the strangest frisson of energy travel her spine. The man walking in was one for the books, tall, lean and startlingly handsome. A shock of sandy hair. Tanned face. She couldn’t see his eyes, as they were behind a pair of very dark sunglasses. He was dressed like most of her male customers, in jeans, boots and Western-cut shirt; nothing unusual, but there was something besides his good looks that affected Lola.

She didn’t take time to wonder about it; instead, she began moving toward him. “Good morning.”

Duke Sheridan turned his head to see who had spoken to him, at the same time removing his dark glasses and tucking them into his shirt pocket. One good look at Lola had him feeling very male and high-spirited. She was slender, in white jeans and a loosely structured, emerald green blouse tucked into the waistband of the pants. Her dark hair was short and perfect for her beautiful face. Yes, he thought, beautiful. Who was she? Before walking in here he had believed that he’d known every attractive woman in the area.

Every attractive unattached woman, he quickly amended; she must be taken.

Not that he was a womanizer. But he’d lived in this part of Montana all his life and there were very few unfamiliar faces.

“Morning,” he replied with a lopsided grin that arrowed straight to the core of Lola’s system. “Been meaning to stop in since this store opened.” They had gotten close enough to each other for him to see the name tag on Lola’s blouse. He bent his head to read it aloud. “Lola Fanon.” His eyes rose to meet hers. “Are you one of Charlie Fanon’s kids?” The Fanon on her name tag was encouraging. Most married women took their husband’s last name.

“You know Charlie?”

“Everyone knows Charlie. Let’s see. He has three kids, if I remember right. Haven’t seen any of them for quite a while, now that I think about it.”

“He has two children and a niece,” Lola said with a small laugh of indulgence. “I’m the niece.”

One of Duke’s eyebrows went up. “Really? I was always under the impression that…well, you know what I mean.”

“A lot of people thought Charlie was my father while I was growing up. Some probably still do.”

Duke’s gaze kept roaming her features. Her perfect little nose, startling green eyes and sensual mouth seemed to demand a great deal of study. He was thoroughly enjoying this unexpected meeting, and was willing to talk about anything to prolong it.

He folded his arms across his chest, as though settling in for a good long chat. “So, Charlie raised you?”

“Since I was nine.”

“But we’ve never met, have we?”

“Not that I can recall.” That wasn’t completely true. He seemed vaguely familiar, although she couldn’t really place him. There was hordes of information she could pass on to clarify her own past for this man, but it really wasn’t any of his business, good-looking or not. “Is there something I can help you find?” she asked, indicating the merchandise in the store with a wave of her hand.

He smiled. “You know, maybe there is. Seems like I lost something when I walked in here.”

“Pardon?”

“Yeah, there seems to be an empty spot right about here.” Unfolding his arms, he tapped the left side of his chest. “I think what’s missing is a piece of my heart. Do you have it?”

Lola’s face colored. What an outrageous flirt! Well, she’d dealt with his sort before.

“I think if you’re suddenly missing a body part, sport, it’s from a little higher up than your chest,” she said pertly.

Duke laughed with genuine relish. He did like a woman with spirit. “Could you by any chance be referring to my brain, Lola Fanon? Oh, by the way, I’m Duke Sheridan.” He held out his right hand.

Lola stared at it. Now she knew who he was, or at least, what he was. A rancher. The Sheridan Ranch was one of the largest and most successful in the area. Or it had been before she left Rocky Ford.

But did she want to touch that big masculine hand? Feel its warmth? Physically connect the two of them, if only for a handshake? Although Betty was taking good care of her lady customer, Lola could sense that she was also highly interested in what was happening near the table of jeans.

“Hey,” Duke said softly. “Don’t be afraid to shake my hand. I guarantee not to bite.”

Lola tilted her chin to a defiant angle, and she boldly stared into Duke’s golden brown eyes while she laid her hand in his.

He laughed. “I don’t scare you at all, do I?”

“Not an iota.” But she only allowed the handshake to last a few seconds. “Now, is there anything I can show you, Mr. Sheridan?”

“A whole lot, Miss Fanon, if you’re willing.”

His bedroom voice sent ripples of heat throughout her body, which she did her best to ignore. “I’m willing and delighted to show you anything in the store that’s for sale, Mr. Sheridan. The key phrase is for sale, in case you missed it.”

“Didn’t miss it at all.” Grinning to himself, Duke walked over to a display of hats. “You’ve got some good merchandise in here.” He took a hat from the rack and put it on. “What do you think?”

“It’s definitely you,” she drawled, which was an out-and-out lie. The black hat he’d chosen was huge, with a ten-inch crown and a wide, floppy brim, and it looked ridiculous on him.

He laughed as though she’d said something hilarious. Removing the hat, he replaced it on the rack and picked up another, a cream-colored Stetson. “I think I like this one.”

So did she. “The black one suits you much better,” she said with a smile of exaggerated sweetness.

“Yeah, right.” Leaving the hat on, he moved to a rack of shirts. Flipping through them, he asked, “Who owns the store?”

“I do.”

He sent her a glance. “So you’re a businesswoman. Or should I say businessperson?”

She shrugged. “Say anything you wish.”

He stopped to give her a long look. “That’s an opening if I ever heard one. Do you mean it?”

“I’m talking about my title, Mr. Sheridan.”

“Duke. I’ve decided to call you Lola, so you may as well call me Duke.”

“Male logic. Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Maybe you don’t surprise easily.” His smile flashed. “Then again, it could be that you’re feeling as overwhelmed by me as I am by you.”

“Oh, please,” she said, attempting a contemptuous intonation. “Men do not overwhelm me, Mr. Sheridan.”

“Not even once in a while?” he said teasingly, at the same time pulling three shirts from the circular rack. “I’ll take these, along with the hat,” he said before she could respond to his silly question.

Lola accepted the shirts, genuinely surprised that he was planning to buy something.

“And these two,” he said, adding another two shirts to the three she was holding.

“Would you like to try them on?” she asked.

“Don’t need to. They’ll fit. Let’s see what else you’ve got in here.” He walked over to the jeans section, which was in a different location than the table of jeans at the front of the store. With his hands on his hips, he perused the laden shelves. “Good size selection. Little guys, big guys…” He gave her a grin. “They can all buy here.”

“That’s the idea.” His grins were much too adorable for Lola’s comfort. And yet she found herself waiting for the next one. She enjoyed flirting with an outstanding guy as much as any woman, but there was the strangest little voice in the back of her mind issuing warnings. If she remembered anything at all about the Sheridans, father and son, it was the rumors that they always got what they wanted, when they wanted it. It was entirely possible that Duke flirted with every reasonably attractive woman he ran across, just as he was doing with her, so she shouldn’t allow herself to get too giddy about it.

“I’ll bring these shirts to the counter while you look around,” she told him. “Would you like me to take the hat, too?”

“Thanks, but I like it right where it is.”

“Fine.” Lola walked across the store to the counter and hung the shirts on a rack behind it.

Betty excused herself momentarily from her customer and hurried over. “Do you know who he is?” she asked in an undertone.

“He introduced himself. I remember the name, but not him.”

“He’s the best catch in the county,” Betty whispered. “Be nice.” Smiling broadly, she returned to her customer.

Lola could see Duke pulling jeans from a shelf; apparently he had found his size. After a deep breath, she walked back to him. “These jeans are—”

“No salesmanship necessary. I’ll take four pair.”

“Oh.”

“I see you carry boots.” Duke started for the boot display.

“Not many, Mr. Sheridan. I plan to expand the shoe and boot department, but at the present my stock is limited.”

“These are good.” He picked up a gray lizard boot and looked it over. “Got this one in a size twelve?”

“I think…possibly. Let me check.” Hurrying to the storage room, she scanned the boot boxes. Elated, she returned with a size twelve. “Sit down. You really must try boots on. They vary a great deal depending on style and brand, and boots should fit perfectly.”

“Really?”

She flushed slightly. He’d worn boots all his life, for heaven’s sake, and certainly didn’t need advice on how they should fit.

“Sorry,” he said. “Only teasing. I like it when you blush.” Duke sat in one of the three chairs Lola had installed in the boot section of the store. “Are you going to put them on me?”

“No, you are.” So, he liked making her blush. For some reason that annoyed her. She opened the box and pulled out the boots, removing the packing from inside them. “Here you are,” she said, placing the boots on the floor next to the ones on his feet.

Chuckling quietly, he yanked off his boots and pulled on the new ones. Standing, he checked the result in the mirror. “What do you think?”

“They look great, but how do they feel?”

“Like new boots.” He grinned, but only for a moment. With his eyes narrowed on her, he said in a tone too low to reach Betty and the other woman in the store, “You sure are a pretty little thing.”

Lola cleared her throat. “Thank you. About the boots…”

“I’d much rather talk about you. How about going next door to the diner with me for a cup of coffee?”

Startled at his unexpected invitation, Lola felt another blush sneaking into her cheeks. “Thanks, but I really can’t leave.”

“Aw, sure you can. You’re the owner, aren’t you? You can do anything you want.” Duke resumed his seat and pulled off the lizard boots. “I’ll take these.”

He hadn’t asked for the price. “They’re $375,” Lola said.

He shrugged. “How about that coffee?”

Lola gathered up the boots and fit them back in their box, while Duke pulled on his old boots.

“Sorry,” she said. “I really can’t leave the store.” She heard the phone ringing then, and since the boot department was close to her office, she called to Betty, “I’ll get it. Please excuse me, Mr. Sheridan. I won’t be long.”

“Take your time, sweetheart. I’m in no hurry.”

His sassy response caused Lola’s pulse to flutter. She had met some intriguing men during college and her years of travel, but none to compare with Duke Sheridan. Leaving the office door ajar, she picked up the phone. “Men’s Western Wear, Lola speaking.”

“Miss Fanon? This is Naomi Pritchard, the principal of the Lewis and Clark Elementary School. May I speak to Betty, please? I’m afraid we have a bit of an emergency. Her son, Brian, was hurt in a fall. The school nurse thinks he may have broken his arm.”

“I’ll get her immediately.” Dropping the phone, Lola went to the door, then decided against calling clear across the store for Betty. Winding through the merchandise, she approached her instead. “Betty, the school principal is on the phone for you.”

Betty’s eyes registered alarm, but she spoke calmly to her customer. “Please excuse me, Mrs. Callahan.”

“Well, certainly, Betty. I’m through anyway. Lola can ring this up for me.”

Mrs. Callahan had picked out a striking silver belt buckle with turquoise insets. As Betty sped away, Lola put the buckle in a little box.

“It’s a birthday present for my husband. I’m sure he’ll love it,” Mrs. Callahan said. “You gift wrap, don’t you?”

“Yes, we do,” Lola replied. Duke was wandering, she saw with a quick glance in his direction. She rang up the sale on the cash register. Betty came out of the office carrying her purse.

“I have to leave, Lola.”

Lola nodded. “I know. Mrs. Pritchard explained. Don’t worry about anything here.”

Betty was on her way to the door. “See you tomorrow morning.”

“Only if everything’s all right,” Lola called. “And let me know how Brian is.”

“Will do.” Betty went through the door.

A few minutes later, while wrapping Mrs. Callahan’s purchase in pretty green-and-silver paper, Lola heard the bell over the door jangle again. Looking up, she saw Duke leaving. And he was still wearing the Stetson! Frowning, she tried to concentrate on what she was doing. But why would he leave with the hat before paying for it? Had he forgotten he was wearing it?

Lola was still thinking about it, worrying a little, after Mrs. Callahan had gone, when Duke returned with two large disposable cups. He walked up to the counter and handed her one.

“If the mountain won’t go to Mohammed, then another plan has to be devised,” he said, taking small packets of creamer, sugar and a small stirring stick from his shirt pocket. “I didn’t know how you liked it, so I brought a little of everything.”

“I like it with cream, thank you.” Lola set the cup on the counter, removed the lid and emptied a packet of the creamer into it. Raising the cup to her lips, she looked at Duke, who was looking back with an admiring gleam in his eyes. He would not be easily discouraged, she realized, wondering at the same time if she really wanted to discour- age him. Okay, so he came on strong. But wasn’t she more flattered than put off by his flagrant interest?

“Betty left in a hurry,” he said.

“The school principal called. One of her children took a fall, and the nurse thinks he may have broken his arm.”

“It happens with active youngsters. I got a few broken bones growing up.” He sipped from his cup. “Did you?”

“No, I never broke anything.”

“Except for a few hearts, I’ll bet.” He grinned.

“Except for a few hearts,” she confirmed with a straight face. It wasn’t true. She’d never broken any hearts that she knew of, but Duke had apparently placed her in the femme fatale category, and why burst his bubble? Flip that coin, she thought with a sudden wariness. If there was a heartbreaker in this store, it was him. A man with a smile like his and an outrageous flirt, to boot? Oh, yes, definitely a heart breaker.

The “best catch in the county,” as Betty had referred to him, was a description usually reserved for a man who had eluding commitment down to a fine art. He would play—oh, yes, he would play—but he would never stay.’As attractive as Duke was, as much as she enjoyed his audacity, she must watch her step.

And then, right before her eyes, he became a completely different person. Sipping his coffee, he asked in a voice conveying normal curiosity tinged with concern, “What happened to your parents?”

Lola blinked in surprise. How could he change personalities so quickly?

Though confusion was suddenly rampant in her system, she managed to speak evenly. “They died in a car accident.”

“And Charlie brought you home with him?”

“My father was Charlie’s only brother. They were very close.”

“Tragic. My mother died when I was five, so I barely remember her. Then Dad went about three years ago.”

“I’m sorry. After you told me your name, I remembered some vague references to the Sheridan men, father and son.”

“Then you know I live on a ranch.”

Lola nodded. “Yes, you’re a cattle rancher.”

His gaze seemed to bore into her. “And you’re a store owner. How do you like it?”

“I like it very much.”

“But before this, you weren’t in Rocky Ford for a long time. Where were you?”

“In college, then too many places to list. I traveled.”

“For years?” There was puzzlement in his expression.

“Yes, for years.” She had to laugh because he looked so befuddled. “I wasn’t on the go every day. I took jobs here and there. I worked in a Paris boutique for eight months, and in a little pastry shop in London for about a year.”

“A world traveler. I thought you were only talking about the U.S.”

“Oh, I saw the U.S., too. Then, about a year ago, I started getting lonesome for home.”

“What are you, independently wealthy?” He’d never thought of Charlie Fanon as wealthy, but Lola could have inherited from her parents.

Lola laughed again. “Not anymore. Actually, I was never what you’d call wealthy, but my parents’ estate provided enough for my education and some to spare. I grew up dreaming of seeing something of the world, so I did it.” She glanced around her store, feeling pride in her decor and good taste. “I had enough money left to open this store.”

“But why a men’s store? I would think a woman would rather sell pretty clothes to other women.” He noticed her amused little half smile. “Wrong assumption, huh?”

“Very wrong.” She looked him in the eye. “I like men much better than women, Mr. Sheridan.”

He chuckled softly. “I sure do admire your honesty, sweetheart.”

“Do you?”

“Absolutely.” His outlaw grin returned at full throttle. “Of course, there are a whole passel of other things I admire about you, as well.” She felt his gaze linger on her bosom for a few seconds, then slowly travel up to her face. “You are one beautiful lady,” he said huskily.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Sheridan,” she said, an automatic response that denied the truth, noticing that her own voice had gotten a bit husky, too.

“It’s not flattery, Miss Fanon. I’m as honest as you are.”

“Is that a fact?”

They were staring into each other’s eyes. It took Lola a minute to shake the feeling that they were all alone in the world. Even the store had seemed to disappear for a time.

Abruptly, she tore her gaze from his and finished the last of her coffee. “Well, I really must get back to work,” she said briskly, dropping her cup into the small trash can next to the counter. “Let’s see. You wanted that hat, those shirts and the jeans.”

“And the boots,” Duke reminded her. “Lola, will you have dinner with me tonight?”

Her eyes jerked to his. “Tonight? Uh, no…not tonight.”

“Too fast, huh? How about tomorrow night?” When she didn’t answer, he added, “Let me warn you. I’m going to camp on your doorstep until you say yes.”

She tried to laugh. “Really, Mr. Sheridan…”

“Duke.”

“All right…Duke. But let me warn you that I don’t take kindly to pressure.”

“Then say yes right now and we’ll avoid all that. You name the time and place.”

“Thanks for the leeway,” she drawled with some sarcasm.

He grinned. “You’re welcome. I’m a very fair fellow.”

“You know, for some reason I can’t quite bring myself to believe that. I think when you see something you want, you don’t stop until you get it.”

Laughing, he walked a small circle then leaned on the counter. “Guess you understand me.”

“Does my understanding present a problem for you?”

“Nope. You see, I understand you, too.”

“You only think you do,” Lola retorted.

He reached across the counter and flicked the collar of her blouse. “Name the time and place, Lola,” he said, his voice low and sensual.

She sucked in a quick breath. Two men were walking through the door. She couldn’t stand around and bandy words with Duke Sheridan any longer.

“I can see you’re not going to give up,” she said quietly. “Make it Friday night. A movie, not dinner. I’m living with Charlie, so you can pick me up at his place at eight.”

Duke straightened from the counter with a satisfied expression on his face. “I’ll be there. Now, ring up those sales, Lola, my sweet. I’ve got to get back to the ranch.”

Two

The woman occupying room 116 in the redbrick Sundowner Motel checked the Rocky Ford telephone directory, located Fanon, Charles A. and wrote his address, as listed, on the small phone pad provided by the motel. Closing the directory, she set it aside, then stared at the pad. 805 Foxworth Street. Her heart thumped nervously, anxiously. She finally had his exact address. It didn’t seem possible, and now that she had gained so much ground, it also seemed a little too easy.

But she had come this far and couldn’t start digressing just because one step in her plan had been simple when she’d expected difficult. She realized, in all honesty, that she hadn’t really taken the first step yet. Up to now, everything had been a backdrop for what was to come.

Breathing deeply to calm herself, she got up for her purse, left the unit and walked to her car. Right now she would take a look at 805 Foxworth Street. Maybe she’d do more than that today, maybe not. It wasn’t that she was lacking in courage, but this was so vastly different from anything else she’d ever done in her life, with so many emotional ramifications—why wouldn’t it demand caution?

It surprised her, when she found the address, that it wasn’t just a house. Foxworth Street had obviously been rezoned from residential to commercial some time ago, because there was both ordinary homes and businesses on each side of the street. Number 805 was a huge old structure that appeared to be a business and a home. It bore a sign over the front porch: Charlie’s Place. Driving slowly past, she could see people through the windows. Frowning, she went to the end of the block, turned around and returned to park on the opposite side of the street so she could study the building.

There were other signs, which she thoughtfully read: Best cup of coffee in town. Pastries. Newspapers. Magazines. Her frown went deeper.

People were going in and coming out. Her stomach churned. She hadn’t anticipated a business at the address, and it felt like a setback to her goal. After about fifteen minutes of uneasily watching the activity at Charlie’s Place, she put the car in gear and drove away.

Charlie had dinner ready when Lola walked in at 6:30. “Something smells very good,” she remarked after a cheery hello.

“Homemade vegetable beef soup,” Charlie proudly announced.

“Wonderful. Let me get rid of my purse and wash up. I’ll be back in a flash.”

Just walking through Charlie’s big old house brought back memories for Lola. She passed the doors leading to Serena’s and Ron’s bedrooms, and fondly remembered when the three of them were youngsters and squabbling over the bathroom to wash up for supper. Serena and Ron were Charlie’s daughter and son, Lola’s cousins, but she loved them as though they were her sister and brother.

Now Ron was in the military, stationed in Germany, involved in something called Special Forces—which meant, to the family’s dismay, that whatever he was doing was too secret to talk about. He was married to a beautiful, petite woman named Candace, and they had a young son no one had seen except in snapshots and photographs. The last time Lola had seen Ron in person was at his wedding. He had been stationed in South Carolina at the time, and the whole family had traveled from their various locations to attend the wedding. It was also the last time she had seen Serena, Lola recalled with a sigh. Serena was completely immersed in the study of law at Georgetown University. Mesmerized by Washington, D.C., and politics, she also held a part-time job in a senator’s office. In one of her letters, she had humorously described herself as a gofer for a secretary to the senator’s main secretary. I’m all but invisible to anyone important, but how I love it, she had written.

Would either Ron or Serena ever return to Rocky Ford? Lola wondered while washing her hands. It would be so great if they could all get together. Charlie would be beside himself if his kids all came home at the same time, if only for a brief visit.

Well, at least she was here, Lola thought, running a brush through her hair. She had mentioned getting her own place when she came home, and Charlie had actually paled. “No, honey, no! I’m so glad you’re home, you have to stay here. Humor an old man, Lola.”

He wasn’t an old man, but he was a crafty one, Lola thought with a small laugh. As Duke Sheridan had said, everyone knew Charlie Fanon. What she could have added was that everyone liked Charlie Fanon. He was a character, no two ways about it, but thinning hair and slight paunch aside, his infectious smile and kindly nature made him a lovable character.

Anyway, she hadn’t looked for an apartment, and she loved living with Charlie again. Her old room was exactly as she had left it, which she planned to do something about one of these days, as high school decor didn’t do much for her anymore. But it was so special to know that her own little domain had always been here, even when she’d been on the other side of the globe.

Returning to the large country kitchen, she asked, “Anything I can do, Charlie?”

“Nope. Everything’s ready.” He placed steaming bowls of soup at her place and his.

They sat down, and Charlie said grace. Smiling at his niece then, he said, “Dive in, but be careful. It’s hot.”

Lola took a cautious taste. “Hmm, delicious. I knew it would be.” She broke off a chunk from the loaf of crusty French bread in a basket between her and Charlie. “So, how’d your day go?” she asked.

“Great, just great,” Charlie answered.

Lola smiled. Every day was great to Charlie. He found something good in everyone he met and something good in every day. Most of his customers were old-timers who came in for coffee, doughnuts and gossip. They bought their daily newspaper from Charlie, and their favorite magazines. His business certainly wasn’t a high-income venture, but he had started it—renovating the large front parlor of the house—after retiring from the telephone company, where he’d worked as a lineman ever since moving to Montana from California.

“How was your day?” he added after a moment.

“Business was very good, one of the best since I opened the store. Most of it was due to one customer. Charlie, do you know Duke Sheridan?”

Charlie nodded. “I know him. Why? Was he in the store today?”

“He sure was. Uh, Charlie, what do you know about him?”

“About Duke? Well, let me see. He’s a successful rancher, hard worker and keeps pretty much to himself.”

Lola’s eyes widened. “Keeps to himself? Charlie, Duke Sheridan is the biggest flirt I’ve ever run into.”

“Duke is? Never heard that about ’im. Well, I really only know him enough to say hello to. But seems to me that kind of reputation would have spread around town.” Charlie cocked an eyebrow and grinned. “Flirted with you, huh? Probably thought you were the cutest little thing he’d ever seen.”

“He said something to that effect,” Lola said dryly. Her tone of voice changed. “Hasn’t he ever been married?”

“Not that I know of. Though I do recall that he and a gal by the name of Tess Hunnicutt were close for quite a spell. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Tess for a long time. Maybe she left town.”

Probably over a broken heart, Lola thought with some cynicism. Despite Charlie’s good opinion of Duke’s reputation, she couldn’t stop thinking of the man as a heartbreaker.

“Anyway, he asked me out to dinner. Insisted on it, to be honest. I had customers coming in…Incidentally, Betty had to leave early because her son Brian broke his arm at school. She called from the hospital. Brian’s arm was set and casted, and he’s doing fine. Betty will be back to work in the morning. But I was very busy, as you can imagine. Duke was pressuring me for a date, and just to get rid of him I finally said yes.”

“You could do a whole lot worse than date Duke Sheridan, honey.”

“Yes, and maybe I could do a whole lot better.” She frowned slightly, remembering the pressure Duke had put on her, making a game of it but pressuring her nonetheless. It had been flattering, yes. He was, after all, one of the bestlooking men she’d ever seen. But maybe he was a little too sure of himself, maybe a little too macho. Commitment to any man wasn’t at the top of her list of priorities, but someday she hoped to marry and have a family. It was just that Duke didn’t quite seem to fit her idea of a life partner.

But then, did she know what kind of man would fit an idea she had never really formulated?

“How old is he, Charlie? Do you know?”

Charlie shook his head. “My guess would be as good as yours. Probably around thirty-five, wouldn’t you say?” Charlie’s grin flashed. “Good age for a man to settle down.”

Lola couldn’t help laughing. “One date is not a forerunner to a man settling down, Charlie Fanon.”

“No, but every man who ever got married started out with one date, Lola Fanon,” Charlie retorted.

“You’ve already got us married? And I thought Duke was a fast worker,” Lola said teasingly. “You’ve got him beat by a mile.”

They laughed together, then Charlie said, “Well, I know some man’s gonna sweep you off your feet one of these days, honey, and as I said, you could do worse than Duke Sheridan. When’s your date?”

“Friday night. He’s going to pick me up at eight.”

A twinkle appeared in Charlie’s eyes. “Maybe I’ll ask him what his intentions are.”

“Maybe I’ll ask about his intentions,” Lola said in a quick response.

Charlie grinned. “You’d do it, too, wouldn’t you?”

“You bet your sweet bippy I would. One pass and Duke’s apt to get an earful.”

“That’s my girl,” Charlie said approvingly. “Keep ’im on the straight and narrow.”

“I fully intend to.”

That night, lying in bed, Lola wondered how true that statement was. If Duke made a pass, would she really give him what for? He was incredibly attractive, after all, and depending on how the evening went, a good-night kiss might not be at all out of line.

It was a wait-and-see proposition, she decided with a yawn. Turning onto her side, she got comfortable and closed her eyes. It was pleasant to fall asleep thinking of devilish golden brown eyes and a smile that would melt snow during a Montana blizzard.

In his bed at the ranch, Duke stared into the dark and thought about Lola Fanon. He’d gone into her store merely to size it up, not to buy a wardrobe he sure as hell didn’t need. That hat, for instance. There were five Stetsons of various colors in his closet, six counting the new one, and he certainly hadn’t needed another pair of boots.

But he’d gotten absolutely silly over Lola and started buying things like a love-struck kid, just to keep her talking to him. Damn, she was pretty. Smart, too. And gutsy. Imagine her traveling all over the world by herself. Had he ever met a more fascinating woman?

“Nope,” he mumbled aloud. “Probably never will, either.”

He wanted her. The tight, uncomfortable sensation in his gut was unmistakably sexual. But there was more than unfulfilled desire keeping him awake; he liked Lola. He liked her bright mind and self-confidence, the way she moved and held her head so high, the courage with which she obviously faced life. There was only one aspect of her personality that he found a little disturbing, her air of independence.

But hell, a man could get around “independent,” couldn’t he? Especially when everything else about a woman was damned near perfect?

Heaving a sigh, he forced Lola from his mind to think about the ranch and tomorrow’s chores. He had three fulltime ranch hands on the payroll, plus an older couple, June and Rufe Hansen. June took care of the house and meals, and Rufe was an all-around handyman, seeing to the grounds, and any repairs to the house, servicing the vehicles and doing any other odd jobs that popped up. The Hansens had been hired by Duke’s father, Hugh, about fifteen years ago, so they were sort of like family to Duke. The only family he had, really. They were also the only people who actually lived on the ranch, besides himself, of course. Hugh had built them a little house about a half mile from the main house, giving them and himself privacy. The Sheridan Ranch covered over four thousand acres of prime Montana grazing land, so there was no reason for people to live on top of each other.

Hugh had also built the main house, which Duke now occupied all by his lonesome. He was very different from his father. Hugh had constructed a large house with plenty of bedrooms and bathrooms so he could invite overnight guests to the ranch, which he had done often. Since his death, there’d been no overnight guests in the Sheridan home, not even Tess Hunnicutt, whom Duke had dated for several years.

He frowned in the dark as Tess entered his mind. He had almost married Tess. Rather, she had presumed that conclusion and he had gone along with it until one night when they were together and it struck him that he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with Tess. She was a nonstop talker, which in the early stages of their relationship he had found amusing. But her constant chatter had gradually worn thin. When he realized his loss of feelings for Tess, he had told her in the gentlest way possible that they had no future together. She had stunned him with a scathing fury and a spate of angry words. He’d walked out. About a month later, he’d heard that she had moved to Missoula. Since then there hadn’t been anyone important. He had women friends, to be sure, but none who were counting on a wedding ring.

Now there was Lola, who seemed to be head and shoulders above any woman he’d ever met. Time would tell if that was really true, but he knew one thing for certain: he was anxious as hell for Friday night to roll around so he could see her again.

Punching his pillow into a more comfortable configuration, he closed his eyes. He had to get some sleep, since 5:00 a.m. wasn’t that far off, and he had a full day of work scheduled for tomorrow.

The lady in the blue sedan was startled to see a young woman leave Charles Fanon’s home, get into a red car and drive away. It was 7:45 a.m. She had awakened very early and driven to the Fanon residence and business for another look at the place. The last thing she had expected to see was a young, pretty woman so early in the morning. Obviously the woman had spent the night in the house. Who was she? She seemed too young to be Charles Fanon’s wife, but one never knew. Then again, with such a large residence, maybe Charles rented out rooms.

Perplexed, she started her car and followed the red car at a discreet distance. It was driven behind a line of connecting businesses and then parked. When the driver went through one of the back doors of the block-long building, the woman in the blue car slowly drove close enough to the door to see a sign: Deliveries Only. Men’s Western Wear.

Okay, so she worked at a men’s clothing store. Or maybe the woman owned it. She wanted to get a closer look at the young woman and decided to return later, after the store was open for a while and other customers would be present.

Driving away, she returned to the Sundowner Motel and room 116.

“How is Brian this morning?” Lola asked when Betty arrived at opening time the next morning.

“Brian’s fine. The doctor said to keep him quiet for one day, then send him back to school. Mrs. Miller from down the street is at the house with him. She always watches the kids when Tom and I go out, and she was more than happy to stay with Brian today.”

“Betty, if Brian’s home today, you really didn’t have to come in,” Lola admonished.

“I promise he’s all right,” Betty said. “I would never leave one of my kids if they weren’t.” She then added with an impish smile, “I’m dying to hear what happened with you and Duke Sheridan yesterday.”

Lola was preparing the cash register for the day. “What makes you think anything happened?”

“What an innocent expression! You should have been an actress, Lola Fanon.”

Lola grinned. “And you should have been a gossip columnist. Okay, I give. There’s not that much to tell, anyway. He asked me out. We’re seeing a movie together on Friday evening.”

“I knew it!” Betty’s blue eyes glowed with excitement. “I could tell he fell head over heels the second he saw you.”

Lola scoffed. “That’s silly. All I am to the flirtatious Mr. Sheridan is a new face.”

The first customer of the day walked in, and Betty went to greet him. Finishing her counter work, Lola wondered if she hadn’t hit the nail on the head with her comment of merely being a new face to Duke. The idea was oddly discomfiting, but it certainly could be true.

She realized that she really didn’t know what to think, and wouldn’t know any more about it than she did right now until she spent some time with Duke. What would Friday night bring, disappointment or more intrigue?

Shaking her head over her mental rambling, she walked over to the shirt racks. They had sold quite a few shirts yesterday, and there were gaps on the racks which she closed by rearranging the hangers. A shipment of shirts would arrive today or tomorrow. Good thing she had placed that order when she did, she thought. Without a wide choice of merchandise and sizes, sales would definitely drop off.

It was amazing to her that she was actually making money with her store. Naturally, profit had been her goal when she started this venture, but to think that she was succeeding was extremely gratifying. Apparently she had a head for business, because she was doing everything right. What’s more, she loved every aspect of the operation, even to the paperwork.

The bell above the door jangled. Smiling, Lola went to greet the second customer of the morning. From then on, it was a busy day.

Three

As Friday drew nearer, Lola became less concerned about seeing Duke. It was only a date, for’heaven’s sake, and he was only a person she barely knew. After one evening together she might not want ever to see him again. If that should happen to be the case, it wouldn’t bother her to tell him so. Not that she would be cruel or insulting about it. But it took two people to create a relationship, any kind of relationship, even ordinary friendship, and if Duke turned out to be unlikable, came on too strong or was boring—unlikely but not impossible—she would let him know that she wasn’t interested in furthering their association.

She was glad of one thing, that she hadn’t agreed to having dinner with him. A movie was a sensible activity for a first date, much less intimate than a dinner for two in some quiet restaurant. There were several nice restaurants in Rocky Ford, and one especially good place about fifty miles out of town. It was a resort, actually, situated in green mountains with good hiking trails and meandering streams. The rooms and restaurant were expensive, but the Horizon Resort did a thriving business, both summer and winter, because of its first-class service and excellent food. Charlie had taken her there for dinner during her first week home, proudly showing her what had sprung up while she was away from the area.

The town, too, had done some changing during her extended absence—several housing developments along its outskirts, new businesses, stoplights at intersections that had always been dangerous, and a modernized theater showing the latest movies, to name a few. Growth and progress had reached her hometown, and now she and her store were part of it. She liked that.

When Friday was upon her, however, she became a little uncertain again. All day, in between customers and busywork, she thought about the date and Duke and how they would get along. She also wondered what to wear for the evening—something casual, of course, but how casual?

She closed at six, as usual, hurried through the after-hours routines—balancing the register, securing the cash in the safe and putting away the sales slips for later attention—and drove home with a knot in her stomach she couldn’t dispel with the commonsense arguments she had relied on since agreeing to this date. Okay, she finally admitted, so she was nervous about the evening ahead. No big deal. But when had she ever been nervous about a date? If it had happened before, she couldn’t remember it.

Dinner was broiled fish filets and a green salad. She and Charlie discussed the day, as had become a nightly routine, then, together, they did the dishes and straightened the kitchen. Charlie headed for the front part of the house, his business space, to do some sweeping and such, and Lola went to her room to get ready. Time was getting short, and she rushed through a shower and shampoo. After donning fresh lingerie, she grabbed a dress from the closet and put it on. Her hair was easy, just a few minutes with the blow dryer and a styling brush. Makeup took another few minutes, and she was ready with ten minutes to spare.

Good, she thought, stopping to catch her breath. After switching purses, choosing one that matched her dress and flat-heeled shoes, she brought the purse to the kitchen and set it on the table. It was five minutes to eight.

Hearing a vehicle pulling into the driveway, she peeked out the window and saw a black four-wheeler. It was a large expensive model with four doors, and as clean and shiny as a freshly polished mirror. Duke got out. Lola’s breath caught in her throat. He was wearing blue-gray Western pants and shirt, and black boots, appearing so handsome in the day’s waning light that she felt choked just looking at him.

“Whoa,” she mumbled to herself, not particularly thrilled that the mere sight of a man would cause her so much turmoil.

She let him knock twice on the kitchen door, which really had become the front door ever since Charlie had turned the front of the house into a business. Finally, calmly, she walked to the door and opened it.

“Hello,” she said with a smile.

“Hello.” Duke’s gaze glided over her pretty, dusky rose dress and slippers, then up to her face. She was every bit as appealing as he remembered, even more so in that dress.

“I’m ready,” Lola said, stepping away from the door to pick up her purse.

“We’ve got a few minutes before the movie starts. I’d like to say hello to Charlie, if it’s all right with you.”

“Well, yes, of course. He’s in the front.” Leading the way, she called, “Charlie?”

They entered the big room with its tables and chairs, display shelves containing books and magazines, and its wonderful smell of rich coffee beans. Charlie set aside his broom.

Duke slipped around Lola and offered his hand. “Hello, Charlie.”

“Duke.” They shook hands.

“Been awhile since I’ve been in here,” Duke said with a glance around. “Nice place.”

“It’ll never make me a rich man, but it gives me something to do,” Charlie said with a small chuckle. “Never could abide sitting around and doing nothing.”

“We’ve got that in common,” Duke said. “I’ve never figured out if that kind of drive is a curse or a blessing, though. Have you?”

Charlie rubbed his jaw. “Can’t say that I have. Most of my customers are older folks, and a goodly percent of them are completely content with retirement. Me, now, I was going a little stir crazy after retirement till I hit on the idea of opening this place.”

“Well, you’ve done a good job with it.” Duke glanced at his watch. “Guess we’d better be going if we’re going to see the start of the movie. Nice talking to you, Charlie.”

“Nice of you to say hello, Duke. Stop in anytime.”

Knowing her uncle so well, Lola caught the respect in his voice and demeanor. Maybe it was only good manners for Duke to say hello to Charlie, but she couldn’t help suspecting an ulterior motive. Like, maybe, his playing up to her uncle would influence her opinion of him?

They left by the kitchen door and walked to Duke’s vehicle, where he opened the front passenger door for her to get in.

“Thank you.” Her words were rather clipped and unfriendly. Even she noticed it. But she wasn’t going to be railroaded into anything by Duke, who already seemed to have gained the upper hand simply by saying a few words to Charlie. She thought about those few minutes with the three of them together while Duke strode to the driver’s door. Charlie’s respect had been so obvious—to her, anyway—and since Charlie Fanon, to her knowledge, had never been impressed by material possessions, his respect had to have been focused strictly on Duke himself. It seemed a little odd when Charlie had told her that he knew Duke only well enough to say hello to.

Duke got in and started the motor. Laying his arm along the top of the seat, he turned and used the rear window to back out of the driveway. On the street, he pointed the vehicle in the direction of the movie theater and got under way.

Setting her purse on the seat between them, Lola pulled down her seat belt and fastened it. Duke sent her a teasing glance. “Worried about my running into something?”

She didn’t think seat belts were anything to laugh about. “If my parents had been wearing seat belts, they might not have been killed in that car accident,” she said evenly, staring straight ahead while she spoke.

There was a moment of silence from Duke, then he said a subdued “Sorry” and hooked his own seat belt. She made no comment.

Duke cleared his throat. “Um…nice evening.” For some reason they weren’t off to a great start.

“Yes, it is,” Lola agreed. “It’s supposed to rain this weekend, though.”

“Yes, I heard the weather report on the news. Had the radio on in my bedroom while I was getting ready. It’s to be expected, though. In fact, we’ve had a three-week dry spell, a little out of the ordinary for spring in these parts.”

“We’ve had a lovely spring. I don’t mind rain, as long as it doesn’t drag on for weeks.”

The theater came into view. Lola stared. “Good Lord, what’s going on there tonight?” There were dozens of teenagers milling around in front of the theater.

Duke frowned. “I have no idea. Wait a minute.” He’d noticed the marquee. “That’s not the movie that was on the marquee yesterday.”

“No, it’s not.” In bold letters on the marquee, the title of a prehistoric monster movie was spelled out. “I don’t want to see that.”

“Neither do I. In fact, I saw it years ago. It’s a kids’ movie. I’m going to park and talk to someone.” After pulling to the curb, he asked, “Want to wait here or come with me?”

“I’ll wait here.”

The young people on the sidewalk were talking, laughing and cutting up as teenagers do, and Lola found herself smiling with old memories of herself at that age. Everything had seemed funny during those years, and she and her friends had giggled their way through high school. Until the middle of her junior year, she remembered, when suddenly—so it seemed—she grew up and began thinking seriously of the future.

She was still deep in her own past when she spotted Bud Hawkins in the crowd. Bud was one of the teenagers who worked part-time in the store. Rolling down the window, she called, “Bud?”

He glanced over, saw her and ambled to the car. Bending down, he peered through the window. “Hi, Miss Fanon.”

“Hi, Bud. What’s going on here tonight?”

“They started showing special movies a couple of Friday nights a month to get the kids off the streets,” Bud said matter of factly. “You haven’t heard about it?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Well, there’s not much for kids to do in Rocky Ford, so I guess a bunch of people got together and came up with this idea. Mr. Jules, the theater owner, went along with it, so here we are. Guess it’s working. It’s someplace to go, anyway. The Eagles Lodge holds dances when there isn’t something going on at school, too. Between the high school, Mr. Jules and the Eagles, there’s always somewhere to go on Friday nights now.”

“Sounds terrific, Bud.” Lola bit her lip for a moment. She had been remiss about getting involved in town politics and problems. As a business owner, she really should join the Chamber of Commerce and the other organizations that worked for the betterment of the community.

“Anyone can go see the movie, though,” Bud continued. “It’s not strictly confined to kids, but the tickets are half price to anyone under eighteen, and Mr. Jules sells the popcorn and sodas at a lower price than he usually does.”

“Sounds to me like Mr. Jules is doing his part to help the young people of Rocky Ford.”

“Guess so.” Bud grinned. “But so are you, Miss Fanon. My job in your store is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“That’s good to hear, Bud. I hadn’t realized…” Duke was suddenly at the window, too. “Oh, Bud, do you know Mr. Sheridan?”

Bud stood up. “Hi, Duke.”

“Hello, Bud. How’s it going?”

“Pretty well.”

“How’s your dad?”

“Doing all right. The doc says he can go back to work in about two more weeks.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah, it is. Well, everyone’s going in. Guess I’d better join the troops. See ya.” He dipped his head to speak to Lola. “See ya next week, Miss Fanon.”

Lola nodded. “On Monday afternoon. Bye, Bud.”

Duke walked around the car and got in. “You got the scoop from Bud, I’ll bet.”

“Yes, he explained. Sounds like the whole town is cooperating to give the young people sensible entertainment. When I was in high school, Friday night was date night and most of the time there wasn’t anything to do.”

“Same here.” Duke was looking at her. “So, the kids have something to do and we don’t. Any suggestions?”

There were the taverns, of course. Some of them provided live music on weekends for their patrons, but Lola wasn’t particularly fond of saloons.

She heaved a sigh. “Not really.”

“Then I have one. Do you remember the Lockland Grange? It’s been there for a hundred years, so you might remember it. If you ever went there, that is.”

“I do remember it. Why?”

“There’s a dance there tonight.”

A dance at the Lockland Grange. Pleasant memories bombarded Lola. “Do they still play the old-time music?”

“Piano, guitar and fiddle,” Duke confirmed. “Other than an occasional coat of paint, the Grange never changes.”

Lockland Grange was thirty miles away, in a rural community whose inhabitants farmed rather than ranched. Lola smiled nostalgically. “When we were teenagers, Charlie took us kids to two or three of those dances. Gosh, that seems like a long time ago.” Thinking of her chat with Bud, she looked at Duke. “Don’t the kids go out there anymore?”

“Not much. Probably because of the music. They’ve got their own style of music, Lola, much more so than our generation did.”

Lola nodded. “You’re probably right, but I remember liking all kinds of music.”

A moment of silence ensued. Duke gave her a look. “Well, how about it? Want to go?”

She thought for a second. Did she want to dance with Duke? On the other hand, the Grange was not a place of low lights and romantic music. The band played polkas and waltzes and two-steps. Even some old-time schottisches. And she had learned the Virginia reel out there many years ago. If they still played those old songs and rhythms, she could dance with anyone without worrying about intimacy.

“Yes,” she said with conviction. “It sounds like fun.”

“Great.” Duke got the car moving.

“Did something happen to Bud’s father?” Lola asked when they were on their way. The boy hadn’t mentioned his father to her.

“Jake Hawkins works for a building contractor. He fell from a roof rafter and broke both legs about two months back. I was glad to hear Bud say he’s doing all right.”

Lola turned her head to look at Duke. “You know everyone in the area, don’t you?”

“Just about.” Duke took his eyes from the road to return her look. “Don’t you? You grew up here, too.”

“Yes, but I’ve been gone for so long…since high school graduation, really. After that it was college, then—”

“Where’d you go to college?” Duke asked.

“I started in Bozeman, then transferred to Tempe, Arizona.”

“Wanderlust had already set in?”

“I think I was born with wanderlust,” Lola said with a small laugh.

“But you came home. Where’s all that wanderlust now?”

“Gone. I guess I used it up.”

“Are you as sure of that as you sound?”

“Positive. I’m right where I want to be, where I plan to stay.”

“So there really is no place like home?”

“Exactly,” Lola murmured. “For me, anyway.” It had happened rather suddenly, she recalled. One day she was content living thousands of miles from Montana and home, and the next day she wasn’t. It had taken some time for the loneliness to really settle in, but when it did, she sold everything she possessed except for her clothes and bought a plane ticket.

“Why did you go into business?” Duke asked.

“Why?” she echoed. “That’s a strange question. I wanted something to do, of course.”

“But you could have gotten a job. Why take on the headaches of operating a business?”

She turned in the seat, enough to give him a good long look. “You’re just full of questions, aren’t you?”

His eyes left the road to slide in her direction. “I don’t know any way to get answers other than to ask questions, do you?”

“And you’re looking for answers? Why, Duke?”

“Only because I’m interested, Lola, very interested. I haven’t told you how beautiful you look in that dress, but you do. You’re an especially beautiful woman in any case, but the color of that dress is perfect for you.”

“That’s what the saleslady said when I tried it on in a little backstreet shop in Paris. She was trying to sell me the dress, Duke. What are you trying to sell me?”

He sent her a grin. “You have a suspicious nature, sweetheart.”

She lifted her chin. “You’re flirting again, like you did the day you came into the store. Do you know something, Duke? You’re more than one person.”

“I’m what?” he asked with a laugh.

“Who were you with Charlie and Bud? You were very different with them than you are with me.”

“Well, I would hope so,” he said with a snort of laughter. “I have absolutely no desire to date either one of them.”

She put on a saccharine smile. “Very funny.”

“If I’m so funny, how come you’re not laughing?”

“I was being sarcastic. As if you didn’t know.”

Duke made a right turn from the highway onto another road. “You’re fighting this, aren’t you?”

“Fighting what?”

“What’s happening between us. I have to ask myself why you’d do that. You see, with you being the self-confident, independent woman you are, I don’t think you’d be in this car with me right now if you’d rather be somewhere else. Which leads me to believe that you like me. Stop me if I’m wrong,” he said, sending her a quick glance, before asking point-blank, “do you like me?”

She gave an incredulous laugh. “We barely know each other. What on earth are you hoping I’ll say?”

“Just the truth, honey. Just the plain old truth.”

“The unvarnished truth, Duke Sheridan, is that you’re making me very uncomfortable.”

“Ah, a clue to your inner feelings.”

“Clue, my left foot! I wish you’d stop trying to figure me out.”

“Aren’t you trying to figure me out?”

“Absolutely not. I thought we were going to see a movie. Going to a movie with a man doesn’t call for an analysis of his psyche. At least I never thought it did.”

“I have a totally different opinion on that subject,” Duke said calmly. “When a man and woman meet for the first time and the air all but sizzles around them, I think they start delving into each other’s personality right from the get-go.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” But she didn’t refute his remark about “sizzling air,” though it was certainly an exaggeration of their first meeting. Still, denying that she had felt something uniquely exciting that day would be a lie, and she suspected that he would be only too willing to debate the point. It was a discussion she preferred avoiding, even though she usually spoke her mind without wondering if she should. A disturbing thought came to her. If Duke was a different person with her, so was she with him. What should she make of that?

“Almost there,” Duke remarked, making another turn. “Getting back to personalities—”

She cut in, “Let’s not.”

“Do you usually avoid controversial conversations?”

“No, I do not. But I think you’re making far too much of a first date.”

Duke took one hand from the wheel and snapped his fingers. “I got it now. You’re more willing to talk about meaningful relationships on a second date.”

Giving him a startled look, she saw the humorous waggling of his eyebrows in the dash lights.

“You are having far too good a time at my expense,” she accused.

He laughed. “I am having a good time, honey. But that’s only because I’m with you. You’re not mad at me for teasing you a little, are you?”

He was too damned cute, but her annoyance melted away until she gave a small laugh. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

“That’s good. It’s hard dancing with someone who’s mad at you.”

“I’m sure you’ve had the experience,” she said dryly.

“There’s another topic you probably won’t talk about on a first date.”

She looked at him quizzically. “What topic?”

“Experience. I’m sure you must have met some interesting people during your travels.”

“Yes, of course.”

Duke cleared his throat. “Interesting men?”

She tilted her head to see him. “By any chance, are you asking about my experience with men?”

“Well, I am curious.”

“Would you like me to tell you what you can do with your curiosity, Mr. Sheridan?” she asked sweetly.

“Uh, probably not.” He chuckled after a moment. “We sure do get along, don’t we?”

Lola merely shook her head in amazement, though in truth she had been enjoying their repartee. Duke was fun to be with, flagrantly nosy but fun. Scratch “boring,” she thought, recalling her thoughts about what kind of evening they might have together.

“There’s the Grange,” Duke announced.

Lola looked ahead and saw the lights of the old building. Dozens of cars and pickup trucks were parked around the place.

“Looks like a good turnout,” she remarked.

Duke pulled into the parking lot and found an empty space. He turned off the ignition. The second the motor was silent, they could hear music coming from the building. Lola smiled: it was the same type of old-time music she remembered. She reached for the door handle to get out, and felt Duke’s hand on her arm.

She turned to look at him. “What?”

“If you’ll wait a minute, I’ll be a gentleman and open your door for you.”

She laughed. “That’s not necessary. I’m perfectly capable of opening the door for myself.”

“Lola, sit,” he said firmly, and bounded from the car to hurry around the front of his car.

“You silly man,” she whispered. But there was something alive and happy within her. She could have easily and honestly given Duke an answer to his question Do you like me? She did like him. Very much.

But it was that very affection that had her guard up. Never before had she so quickly developed positive feelings for a man. To her way of thinking, that in itself was reason enough to keep their relationship in the sane and sensible category, especially when she suspected that, given an opening, Duke would make a move on her with the impact of a speeding bullet.

He opened her door. She looked at the hand he extended in invitation for a moment before taking it and heard Duke laugh softly.

Okay, maybe she was being a little too cautious. Gingerly she placed her hand in his and got out of the car. The next thing she knew she was pressed against Duke, thigh to thigh, chest to chest. Startled, she lifted her chin to look into his eyes. His arms were around her, holding her firmly in place.

“Don’t do this, Duke,” she said in a voice that was suddenly husky with rampaging emotions.

“You don’t kiss on a first date?” There was a teasing quality to his voice, even though his eyes were dark and sober. “I want to kiss you, Lola,” he whispered. “I’ve hardly thought of anything else since we met.”

She saw his head slowly coming down. Her own heartbeat was nearly choking her.

But she wasn’t ready for this move. Placing her hands on his chest, she shoved hard and took a backward step at the same time.

“Cool it, sport,” she mumbled thickly. “I won’t be rushed.”

Duke stared at her, then laughed. “Guess I forgot that. Come on, let’s go in.”

Lola frowned as they wound through vehicles to reach the Grange. He’d taken rejection well. This time. What concerned her was that the next time he made a pass—and she had no doubt that he would try again—she might not say no.

She could get in very deep, very fast with Duke Sheridan. A heavy but silent sigh lifted her shoulders. After little more than an hour together, things were already getting complicated.

Was she falling for Duke? Maybe she was, though an even more disturbing question was what he really thought of her. If he was looking for nothing more than sex, he was barking up the wrong tree.

But how would she know? More than one woman had fallen for a charming, handsome man, given him everything including her heart, and then been dropped like a hot potato when another challenging woman appeared on the scene.

Why did she suspect Duke of being that type of guy? No one had said anything to lead her to believe that about him. It was more of a gut instinct than anything else.

A final thought just before they reached the door of the Grange weakened her knees. Was it possible that she was merely devising arguments against falling in love and would do the same with any man who expressed a serious interest in her?

Four

A blue sedan was parked in the dark shadow of a huge cottonwood tree, directly across the street from Charlie’s Place. The woman inside the car sat rigid as a rock, staring intently at the lighted windows of the Fanon residence. A man was in and out of sight, appearing to be doing some cleaning. She couldn’t see his features clearly and wished she had binoculars with her. Even the vague picture he presented, however, made her heart beat faster. Charles Albert Fanon. Instinctively she knew it was him. This was her chance. She should take it…now!

Her muscles became even stiffer than they’d been and her thoughts began stumbling over one another. Panic rose in her throat, and it took several minutes to even partially calm herself.

She knew the name of the dark-haired young woman living with Charles…Lola Fanon. She had visited the Men’s Western Wear store, going in when the two female clerks were busy with customers. Browsing, she had managed to get close enough to read Lola’s courtesy tag on her blouse. The Fanon name had dealt her a blow. Who was she to Charles? The rent-a-room theory was out; Lola Fanon had to be closely related, probably a daughter.

Then, earlier tonight, she had seen Lola leave with a man in a black vehicle. Ever since, she had been watching Charles through the windows of his house and business.

She inhaled a deep breath, waiting for the courage to climb the stairs to the front porch, to go through that door, to do what she had come to Montana and Rocky Ford to do.

“Oh, God,” she moaned. She could never leave town until she accomplished her goal, and here was a perfect opportunity to do so. He was all alone in that big house. Why couldn’t she get out of this car?

Her mind raced, looking for answers. Was it because she still didn’t know enough about Charles Fanon? Enough about Lola? Maybe he had more children than Lola. If so, where were they? Where was his wife?

There were too many questions confusing her. She could not do it tonight.

The decision was relieving. Her body lost some of its tension.

When the lights went out in the front part of the house, she started the car and slowly drove away.

The second Duke paid for their admittance to the Lockland Grange, he pulled Lola onto the dance floor. Surprised, she laughed but fell into the steps of the waltz being played by the people making music on a piano, guitar and fiddle.

She glanced around in amazement while they danced. “It’s exactly the same.”

“Told you it was,” Duke said.

“Yes, but after so many years I expected some change. The ladies still have their tables of snacks and drinks to sell along that west wall, and the piano is in the exact spot it always was.”

“Some things never change,” Duke said.

“Very few.”

“Have you noticed changes in the area since you returned?”

“Lots of them.”

“And you don’t like change?”

“To the contrary, I’ve always enjoyed change. Actively sought it, to be honest. Until recently,” she said. “I’m talking about personal change now,” she added after a moment.

“So you were a changeable woman and now you’re not?”

She nodded. “Something like that.”

“How’d that happen?”

Good question, she thought, and gave a small shrug in response. “The band members can’t possibly be the same people who were here when I was a teenager, but they seem the same,” she said, instead of replying to Duke’s question.

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